


So What

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 04:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19349782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: Early relationship season 7 fluff





	So What

Scully’s affixing a pearl earring to her left ear as she makes her way to her bathroom.  It’s half past seven and they’re going to be late. She stands in the doorframe, curling her nylon-clad toes against the tile.  Mulder is at the sink, a pink towel slung low on his hips. He’s only halfway done shaving, his right cheek streaked with leftover shaving cream.  Drops of water roll down the back of his neck along his spine and down to the hollow dimple above the curve of his ass where the towel is precariously rolled.  She loses concentration and accidentally stabs her earlobe before managing to slide it into place.

 

She straightens and tugs at the hem of her navy blazer and then smooths her hands down the front of her skirt.  She catches Mulder’s eye in the mirror. “We’re going to be late,” she says.

 

Mulder holds his razor under a short blast of water from the faucet and then taps it against the side of the sink.  He flattens his upper lip to shave around his mouth. “Ho-ut,” he answers.

 

“Why is it we only seem to be late when we stay at my place when I’m so much closer?”

 

In the mirror, Mulder’s eyes dart to the side and then back to her before he looks down.  He cleans his razor again and chuckles. “Your shower is roomier.”

 

She slides across the floor, adjusting the backing on the earring she just inserted with one hand.  He watches her as he scrapes his razor down his cheek, but he can’t split his concentration for long and focuses back on shaving as she stands behind him.  Rising on tiptoes and grasping the towel at his hip for balance, she places a kiss on the back of his damp shoulder, leaving rosy lip prints behind.

 

“What was that for?” he asks.

 

She shrugs and rubs the lipstick off with her thumb.  He finishes shaving and lets the razor clatter inside the shell of the sink as he wets a washcloth.  As he leans over to wipe his face clean, she runs her hand up along his back to his nape, fingers winding into his wet hair.

 

“We’re going to be even later if you keep doing that,” he says into the washcloth.

 

“So what.”

 

The End


End file.
